This is a brilliant film: well-directed, the cinematography is exceptional, and a wonderful story that is tighter, and smarter than it perhaps first seems.

When I first saw this, some 6 years ago now, it became one of my favorite French films, stylish with some wit, intelligence, and excellent close observation of a character at its’ core.

Roughly 9 months ago I started getting sick, and was diagnosed with a form of cancer in March. It is now – after aggressive treatment – in remission, but I now see this film in a completely different light. The emotions one experiences upon first diagnosis of a life-threatening illness are all represented perfectly in this film. They are compressed – in real life, the roller coaster that Cleo experiences are stretched out over days and weeks, but they’re all in here, and the translation of it into something cinematic and artful from both actress and director is pitch-perfect.

The primary discomfort I note from others with this film is Cleo’s status, narcissism and aloofness to anything beyond her wonderful, artificial world. The truth of the matter is that there is a little of that in each of us, and this film perfectly shows how quickly the prospect of perhaps premature death deflates and trivializes all we once though important, while simultaneously shifting the focus to other qualities of human life, like personal, human connection – as seen in the last 1/4th of this film. Onscreen it’s quiet, unguarded – all the other prior preoccupations have fallen away, leaving only connection, and – in the final shots – a resignation that doesn’t signal defeat, but – rather – is indicative of hope. Or, at least, living in the moment and dealing with whatever is dished out as it comes, rather than overreacting – as Cleo once would have done with a poorly written song.

Not just a beautiful to look at piece of French cinema, but a deep film that reveals a lot of life and soul. You should see it.